The world was dark—so incredibly dark. Two figures found themselves in different, yet eerily similar dimensions. Both awoke in their respective realms, disoriented.

One stood in a world filled with jagged red glitches, cracks in reality that broke and repaired themselves endlessly as far as the eye could see.

The other found himself in a realm where blue flames blazed fiercely across the sky, burning everything in sight.

"What is this place?" Both figures murmured, confusion evident in their voices.

They didn’t remember who they were, where they had come from, or why they were here. All they knew was that something had happened that brought them to these strange, chaotic places.

"Am I dead?" Both asked, surprisingly calm despite the uncertainty.

But there was no answer—only silence.

Without any clear reason, they began walking forward, instinctively feeling as though they knew where they were headed.

On one side, reality seemed fragile, as if it were alive, constantly attempting to destroy itself. Red glitches pulsed violently, tearing through space like festering wounds.

On the other side, the skies burned with such intensity it was as if a supernova threatened to consume everything in existence. Yet, somehow, the figure walked unscathed through the inferno.

It all felt like a dream.

Or perhaps a nightmare.

But dream or nightmare, it didn’t matter here.

Nothing did.

As the two figures ventured further into the darkness, they abruptly stopped—not of their own accord. Their bodies froze, completely immobilized. Only their eyes could move, darting around in search of an explanation.

"What is happening?" Both asked in unison, though their voices remained calm.

Suddenly, on one side, reality itself seemed to distort, pulling the jagged red glitches inward as they converged in front of the figure.

On the other side, the blue flames swirled violently, creating a vortex in the sky. The heat intensified as the flames twisted into a single, massive superflare that blinded the second figure.

As both events subsided, they saw it.

They both saw them.

In the red-glitched realm stood an indescribable humanoid form, devoid of any human features. Its body looked like the rough sketch of an artist, left incomplete and unfinished, with distorted lines crisscrossing its form.

In the world of blue flames, a colossal bird of fire appeared, its wings stretching across the horizon, composed entirely of radiant blue flames, as bright and fierce as a newborn star.

Two unimaginable entities—one humanoid and one avian—stared down at the figures in their respective realms.

The humanoid had no face, only shifting lines that warped its form. Yet the figure realized something as they observed it.

"It’s not the form that’s alive. It’s the lines." The figure thought, eyes fixed on the strange, unfinished being.

As he watched, the humanoid began to move toward him. Its movement was flawless, eerily reminiscent of how an adult human might walk, but to him, it was deeply unsettling.

The being stopped just centimeters away, staring without a face.

The figure tried to speak but found that they couldn’t. His mouth was sealed completely shut.

"Only my eyes can move," the figure thought, a growing sense of unease creeping in.

Without warning, the humanoid started to circle him, inspecting every inch of their body. The feeling was sickeningly uncomfortable, like being examined by a butcher from a slab of meat point of view.

After its inspection, the humanoid returned to its original position, standing directly in front of the figure once more. This time, the weight of its gaze felt more intense, even though it had no eyes.

Then, its head tilted—oddly, not like an adult but with the curiosity of a child.

“Interesting”

It said in a distorted, chilling voice.

Meanwhile, in the realm of blue flames, the fiery bird looked down at the other figure, its heat scorching like an untamed sun. The figure squinted, struggling to gaze upon the brilliant creature.

"It’s hot... but not hot enough to burn," the figure thought, feeling the sensation of warmth prickling against their skin.

But the bird suddenly descended, its flames dimming from a bright blue to a darker, more intense shade of blue. As it hovered in front of the figure, a pair of white, pearly eyes formed on its head, radiating an overwhelming pressure.

"It feels familiar..." the figure thought, gazing at the entity before him.

With the elegance of a king, the bird’s beak pointed directly toward him.

“Beware of the Unseen One”

Both figures were perplexed by the cryptic words, but they had no time to ponder their meaning. Without warning, their bodies were yanked backward, the dark dimensions collapsing around their vision.

"Wait!" they both screamed, struggling to resist the pull, but it was futile. The dream was over.

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"Ah!" Shiro gasped as he bolted upright, drenched in cold sweat, his chest heaving with every breath.

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"Shiro!" A girl’s voice called out beside him, panicking. Before he could even process what was happening, she embraced him tightly.

"Wha—who are you?" Shiro stammered, bewildered.

"What!?" The girl pulled back in shock, staring at him with wide eyes. "You... don’t remember me?"

As his vision finally cleared, Shiro blinked and looked closely at the girl. Slowly, recognition dawned.

"L-Liana?" he asked, still disoriented.

"Yes!" she cried, hugging him again. "Oh, thank goodness! I thought you’d lost your memory!"

"Y-Yeah, sorry... my head’s still spinning," Shiro said, his voice apologetic. But then, like a wave crashing over him, the memories of the academy's invasion by the monster hit him.

"Wait! What happened with the invasion?!" he asked urgently, his heart racing.

Liana, taken aback by his sudden shift, placed her hands on his shoulders, trying to calm him. "Don’t worry, we won the battle if that’s what you’re worried about."

"R-Really?" Shiro asked, still unsure.

"Yeah. You don’t remember what happened at the end?" Liana asked, her tone tinged with concern.

Shiro furrowed his brow, trying to recall the events, but all he could grasp were fragmented memories. "I... I’m not sure. It’s all kind of a blur."

"Well, at least you can move." A mischievous voice chimed in from his side.

Shiro turned to his left, and his eyes widened in shock.

"R-Rolan?" Shiro stammered as he saw Rolan, covered in bandages, lying on a bed beside him.

Next to Rolan was Lucius, also wrapped in bandages but with his trademark smirk.

"So, the dumbass finally woke up," Lucius teased, a grin on his face.

"Hey, don’t call him that," Liana protested, defending Shiro.

"Oh no, this time I agree with Lucius," Rolan said, smirking despite his condition. "Shiro’s earned the top spot among dumbasses that ever lived."

Shiro, recalling his own reckless actions during the battle, couldn’t argue. Embarrassed, he grabbed a pillow and hid his face.

"Ugh... I’m sorry," he mumbled from behind the pillow.

Rolan and Lucius burst into laughter, clearly enjoying Shiro’s reaction. Liana could only pat his shoulder in consolation.

"Well, to be fair, it was our decision to join you out there," Lucius said after their laughter subsided. "So, it’s partly our fault too."

"But you know we’ll need an explanation for that transformation you pulled, right?" Rolan added, his smirk fading into a more serious expression.

"Wait, you don’t have to—" Liana began to say, but Shiro cut her off.

"No, they’re right," he admitted. "I’ll explain everything. Later."

"Good," Lucius replied, satisfied. "That’s all we’re asking for."

As Shiro looked around the room, he realized they were in the academy’s infirmary. His classmates were scattered in other beds, many still recovering. But someone was missing.

"Where’s Celes?" Shiro asked, his concern growing.

"Oh, she was called by Vice Principal Barran earlier," Liana explained, her voice heavy with worry. "It sounded urgent."

"I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you," Lucius added. "Out of all of us, she recovered the fastest."

"Yeah, I’m pretty jealous of how quickly she bounced back," Rolan said, his tone playfully envious.

Just as the group was beginning to relax, a piercing cry suddenly echoed through the infirmary, filled with sorrow and anguish.

"No! Tell me it’s not true!" A woman’s voice screamed. Her sobs followed, thick with despair. "My little boy is not dead!"

Another voice, more subdued but filled with regret, followed the woman’s cries. “I—I’m sorry, ma'am,” a man’s voice said, heavy with sorrow. “We... we couldn’t save him.”

“No! It’s not true!” The woman screamed louder, her grief palpable. “Let me see my boy right now!!”

The commotion grew louder as footsteps approached from outside the room.

“Ma’am, please,” another voice intervened, trying to maintain calm. “We will take you to see your son, but you need to calm down.”

“Calm down?!” The woman shrieked in disbelief. “How dare you tell me to calm down! I want to see my son now!”

The woman’s anguished cries filled the infirmary, the echo of her pain piercing through everyone’s hearts.

“This is the third time today...” Rolan muttered, his face dark with sadness.

Lucius looked equally troubled. “Every time I hope it’s the last, another one happens…”

Liana clenched her hands in silent frustration, her eyes glossy with unshed tears.

“Liana…” Shiro said softly, his voice laced with concern.

She wiped her eyes quickly, trying to keep her composure. “No, I’m fine,” she said, though her voice trembled. “It’s just been a hard day.”

Shiro, trying to process the overwhelming emotions, hesitated before asking, “H-How many did we lose?”

Rolan’s expression grew darker as he answered. “Mostly soldiers, but... also some civilians.”

Lucius clenched his fists. “Too many.”

Shiro felt a cold wave of guilt and sadness wash over him.

They had won the battle, but at what cost?

“I thought… I could save everyone…” Shiro whispered, the weight of failure pressing down on him.

“We all did,” Liana said softly, her voice barely audible. “But life… life is cruel sometimes.”

The room fell into a heavy silence.

Yes, they had won the battle.

Yes, they had survived impossible odds.

And yet... there was no celebration.

No joy.

No laughter.

Only the cold, unforgiving truth of war.

----------------------------------------

“AH!” Ren jolted awake, gasping for air, drenched in sweat.

His muscles screamed in pain as if he’d just finished a brutal workout. “Ouch...” he groaned, wincing as he tried to move. “Everything hurts…”

His entire body ached from the aftermath of the side effects, but one feeling trumped the pain: relief.

“I’m alive,” Ren whispered in disbelief, then louder, “I’m alive!”

A wave of joy surged through him—he had survived. Against all odds, he had won the gamble once again.

As he looked around, still on the rooftop, a realization struck him. “Wait, where’s the metal!?” Ren exclaimed, suddenly frantic.

The Origin Metal, his vital companion, was nowhere in sight. Dragging his sore body across the rooftop, he searched every inch, but there was no sign of it.

“Damn it!” Ren groaned, frustration welling up. “Was it destroyed on impact?”

Desperate for answers, he opened his status screen—and his jaw dropped.

image [https://i.imgur.com/rwYFgvO.jpeg]

“All my stats... they’ve doubled!” Ren said, his voice rising with excitement.

It seemed the notification he’d glimpsed before passing out had been real. He had leveled up.

“Was the level up what saved me?” Ren murmured, contemplating the possibility.

In the game, leveling up restored health and cured afflictions. Could the same rules apply to him?

“But… why can’t I see my level? Why is it even hidden in the first place?” Ren mused, perplexed by the lingering mystery.

The enigma of his hidden level still loomed, leaving more questions than answers.

But he was satisfied after reviewing his stats, so Ren turned to check his skills—and was also stunned by what he saw.

image [https://i.imgur.com/lTjikGP.jpeg]

“The timer... it’s two minutes now!” Ren exclaimed, excitement flooding his voice.

His recent level-up had extended the duration of his Unexistence skill by an additional minute, though the cooldown had increased by ten.

“That means... I’ll need to choose when to appear more carefully from now on,” he noted, gazing at the skill list.

Still, he was thrilled. The possibility that his skill could improve further opened a new avenue of potential growth.

Next, he quickly scanned his item list. His relief was palpable when he saw that the Origin Metal was still listed.

“So, it wasn’t destroyed,” Ren sighed, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders. “I just need to find it.”

After closing his status screen, Ren, with great effort, dragged his tired body to the rooftop edge. He looked down at the academy courtyard below. What he saw was anything but triumphant.

The once-lively grounds had been transformed into makeshift emergency hospitals. Medics moved in a frenzy, tending to the injured soldiers, students, and staff alike. Some lay groaning in pain on stretchers, while others were disturbingly silent. Teachers, too, who had fought with fierce bravery, were now among the wounded. Their faces, usually filled with wisdom and strength, now reflected exhaustion and agony.

The air was thick with the scent of smoke, blood, and desperation. Cries of pain echoed across the grounds, casting a heavy gloom over what should have been a victory.

Ren’s gaze shifted beyond the academy to the town of Ecrin. Once a bustling hub of life and vibrancy, it was now in ruins. The battle and the horde's relentless destruction had left the town in shambles.

“I was looking forward to sightseeing... but I guess that’s not happening anymore,” Ren muttered, his voice laced with sadness as he took in the devastation.

Yes, the invasion had been repelled. The main characters—the ones Ren had come to care for—had survived, but the cost had been too high. Too many lives had been lost, and too many sacrifices were made.

“I wish I could have done more,” Ren thought, a knot of frustration tightening in his chest. He knew, logically, that he couldn’t have foreseen or prevented everything, but it didn’t ease the guilt gnawing at him. Maybe he could have done something, anything, to ensure no one died.

But war... war didn’t work that way.

That was the harsh reality. This wasn’t just a game anymore. It wasn’t some set of pixels on a screen that could be reset. This world was real. The pain, the loss—it was all painfully real.

And now, his journey was only beginning.